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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198806">What Comes After</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyrmDisco/pseuds/WyrmDisco'>WyrmDisco</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Friends at the Table (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Gen, M/M, Self-Destruction, Spring in Heiron/End of Heiron Spoilers, playlist fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:07:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyrmDisco/pseuds/WyrmDisco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Narration and speculation around Samot's life post-Spring, as imagined through eight pieces of classical music.</p><p>Listening to all the pieces without skipping will make engagement with this work last 1 hour and 8 minutes.<br/>The intent of this work is to facilitate guided, active listening. But it's fine on its own, too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Samot/Samothes (Friends at the Table)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>What Comes After</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>It is recommended to wait about 30 seconds between the start and end of each piece.<br/>Links to recordings on YouTube are attached to the titles of the pieces.<br/>Otherwise, here is a Spotify playlist:<br/>https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1MmLFgpDes7KqQl4rg7oAp?si=VhGwAjU0QAG3r82pQAZHiA</p><p>As a general content warning, it doesn't get more graphic than the end of Spring did. There are mentions to self-destructive acts, as well as Spring-related light body horror.</p><p>I hope you enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/lxARPDTeYZ0">
    <b>Angels in the Architecture - Frank Ticheli</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have seen the stars. They will not save us.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And they are coming. This is the fight at the last University. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The race to the tower. Samot in the air, conducting invisible improvisatory orchestras.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The clarinets begin to dance. This is Fero.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The brass tears the dance apart. This is when Fero rips the Spring through him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No more wolves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes a long time to die. Longer than one would think. Of course there is more to clean up. There are people who grieve. People who celebrate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The final theme begins. Triumphant, regal chorus of brass accompanied by a thousand sparkling chimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is when Samot is killed, finally, by the Blade in the Dark, and his soul begins to enter Aubade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/xjUyLaF5lMA">
    <b>Prelude Undaunted - Jason Bahr</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is so unbearably lonely to die.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/BI2N8g7ouYw">
    <b>Elegy for a Young American - Roland LoPresti</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In order for a body to wash up on the shore, it must first be dragged through the waves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/-11dDE065p4">
    <b>Gone - Scott McAllister</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How long was he on that beach?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> How long until he was awake again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How long did Samot spend wandering through the streets of Aubade, looking for... something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For his old life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For his son?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His husband?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He knew where his husband was, up in that castle. Waiting for him to return. If he would return.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He always returns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Samot finds a field to lay in, and he does not get up, and for a while- what would feel like years to us- he lets the Spring inside him grow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It consumes him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thinks he is repenting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/C8QWaOYqqFM">
    <b>La Mer, mvt. II - Claude Debussy</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Do you think he returns to that shore? Do you think he wades out into the water, and stands there?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is he swept away by it? Does the water make the flowers in his heart, in his ears, wilt? Or, do they flourish?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a moment of rare clarity, he ducks his head under the waves just to look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What kind of fish live in the sea here? He thinks of Severea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What kind of stones shimmer even in the darkest depths? He thinks of Galenica.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The driftwood on shore reminds him of his father.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sees a turtle lay its eggs and drops to his knees, thinking of Maelgwyn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swims. He swims as far as his arms can take him, and dives as deep as his lungs will allow. Do you think the grasses inside him, now, provide him with the oxygen needed for his breach to the surface? Does their additional buoyancy float his body back to the shore?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Always back to the shore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/jCQEbh_3kr0">
    <b>One Life Beautiful - Julie Giroux</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes you let the person who loves you, despite everything, hold you in his arms. And you allow yourself this one moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You dont realize how much you needed it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You cry until your tears are replaced by petals.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You cry until those petals turn to seeds, and those seeds fall to the ground and bloom on their own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And those flowers become your garden. And your husband tends it as he tends to what grows out of your ears, heart, nose. He trims the red ones that itch, he breaks off the thorns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pollinates the fruit-flowers once and jokes that the ripened peach growing from your heart is your son. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You both weep, and you can no longer stand the taste of peaches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You both weep, and you find a way to remember.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The peaches aren't too sweet if you only eat them once a year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/m6mFePpMDKM">
    <b>Summer Music- Samuel Barber</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Summer never came to Old Heiron, but summer does come here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The birds here are more mischievous than you thought birds to be. They are swirling, often, in the sky above your gardens.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun's oppressive heat is not a cause for panic, but an excuse to make fresh juice to share with neighbors.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A reason to take a swim.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An excuse to forego a shirt in the garden. As if the colder weather had stopped him before, you chide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just smiles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the days pass. And you are together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some days full of joy, some days harder than others. You have grown out the need to seek the chaos that filled your old life- it is no longer your normal. You have grown peaceful with the thought of peace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, someday, you know it will be finished. But that end no longer fills you with the pressure it once did. It is an easy thought, lilting as the birdsong in the breeze, that it will find you, or you will find it, and you will be friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Death served you tea, once. She was a pleasant conversationalist and nearly as terrible a gossip.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The rings on your fingers are simple, handcrafted. You wonder what will become of them, after what becomes of you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that thought makes you smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it makes you look at him, and he looks at you.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/IOWN5fQnzGk">
    <b>The Lark Ascending - Ralph Vaughan Williams</b>
  </a>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly, you find yourself with projects again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I could fix this. I could improve this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ambition you had lost comes back, and it is bright and brilliant and beautiful. And you aren't alone for it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It's bittersweet sometimes. It's hard to be proud of small accomplishments after all you've done, but you find yourself smiling again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You find him smiling again with you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They take walks together, the townspeople say. They are seen, sometimes, hand in hand. Wearing each other's colors. Hair pulled back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sunflower grows, suddenly, from his left shoulder blade. It peaks over his shoulder and always faces Samothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You tell him it's too cliche, but he kisses it and then you, and you can't bring yourself to trim it off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it eventually does dry out, as all your flowers do, you roast it in oil and salt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And you smile. And he smiles back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the sun sets.</span>
</p>
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